Cut to Fit
By
John Scott MD

I’m wearing it right now beneath my jeans.  It clings closely, supporting my cock and balls.  This is a fairly novel experience for me, because I gave up wearing anything under the jeans when I was a kid.  Going ‘Commando’ style was a teenaged-fashion fad amongst us boys.  It seemed a wild, sexy sort of dare at the time.  There was always that risk you’d get a hard-on walking the mall or riding the street car -  not an easy thing to hide with nothing to keep it under control!  Talking of hards, just the idea of denim rubbing against my prick got me excited.  Even before the 501s were drawn halfway up my legs I’d sprout a sky-high boner - still do sometimes.  And it wasn’t the sort of boner that disappeared on its own.  We all got them and knew it, so if you saw one of the guys wearing his Lees or Levis you could be sure he’d had a jerk-off and he knew you’d had one too.  It was our secret.  After that, it just kindda became a habit I suppose.  I’d gone Commando style ever since - always bare-assed and bare-balled under the jeans.  Then I had this weird idea.  

Well, it’s not weird to me.  To me it’s quite natural, but if it became known in the wrong quarters, well, it’d be the end of my comfortable life, the end of a successful career doing what I like doing most of all.  I’d have my doctor’s license revoked in a lurid blaze of tabloid publicity.  You see, I’ve built up quite a practice for myself as a physician to the rich and famous.  But I’ve also developed a sideline in surgery.  

To be precise, I’m what I guess you’d call a consultant in specialist cosmetic surgery : I’m a circumciser, I cut the foreskins off from the ends of cocks.  Not just for the rich and famous though, I do lots of pro bono too.  I wouldn’t allow the sordid issue of money to interfere with the enjoyment of my favorite pass-time!  I don’t know if you’ll understand, but I have this ‘thing’ about it.  Always have, at least since I learned about it, when my cousin Karl arrived.  Shit, that was one hell of a revelation!  Karl was premature so he wasn’t cut straight away.  He didn’t lose his skin for a year or so.  I guess I was about eight or nine at the time.

All kids are naturally nosey.  They’re like Government Intelligence Agencies - always listening in to the background ‘noise’.  For kids, that means grown-ups’ conversations:  “So, when are you going to have him circumcised?”  Mom asked Aunt Jane.  

“Not too sure,” she replied, “Bill thinks maybe we should leave it now till he’s old enough to decide for himself.”  Mom didn’t like that at all, I could tell from the tone of her voice.  I knew the way Mom sounded when she wasn’t happy!  

“That’s not a good idea, not at all.”  she lectured her younger sister-in-law.

I remember we were in the yard at the time and I was playing ball with the neighbor’s kids.  I was aware of the conversation in the background, but it didn’t mean much to me.  I’d heard Mom ask about Karl’s circumcision before, several times, but to me it meant nothing.  Maybe circumcision was about school enrolment or something like that?  Then my ears pricked up and I listened hard - Mom had used that special word.  Suddenly this was interesting.

“You can’t leave his dinkie un-cut, it’s not right!”  Mom was being adamant, but that’s not what drew my attention.  It was the idea that a dinkie could be ‘cut’ at all that riveted me.  What about my dinkie, had that been cut?  The notion buzzed about in my head all afternoon.  The next time Karl had his diaper changed I made sure I was around to check him out.  Sure enough, his was different.  Instead of a clean, pink knob on the end like mine, he had that wrinkled bit of skin.  The truth dawned like a bolt of lightening from the hammer of Thor himself.  I had been cut - that bit on the end had been sliced off!  It was then that I first remember having a ‘sexy’ feeling, you know, wanting to get it out and touch it and examine it and then rub it.  Because it felt good.  But it didn’t just feel good in my cock, it felt good in my head too: kind of strange, kind of exciting, even kind of scary, but definitely good.  And it’s felt good ever since.  

Later in the day, when no one was around, I looked up that “C” word in the big Webster’s - it took time to find it, but then how should an eight-year-old know that ‘circumcision’ began with a ‘c’?  That led me to the word ‘foreskin’ so I checked that out too - jeez!  That was what Karl had, but I didn’t - mine had been cut off!  So was Karl’s, a few weeks later, after Mom had a sisterly word with Uncle Bill.  The rest is history, it all sort of became an obsession.  I suppose that’s why I enrolled at medical school really - just so’s I could get to cut off foreskins, and I’ve cut off thousands in my time.  I always recommend it to pregnant women for their sons and get the consent signed off before labor so I can whip the little fellah away as soon as he pops out and prune him hard-back right from the start.  If you wait for the eighth day it gives some moms time to get all nervous and change their minds.  No, I definitely advocate universal male circumcision and do my best to make it a reality.  Every prepuce is different, of course: fleshiness, length, tightness, shade.  Each circumcision brings its own challenge and each one brings its own satisfaction.  A fulfilling, re-assurance that I’ve done right by some guy, or future guy, and done right by his future lovers.

You’d be amazed at some of the guys I’ve cut - from downtown down-and-outs to some of the Hollywood greats.  A lot of the home-grown West-Coast stars were uncut as boys, a left-over from the ‘natural-look’ sentiments of seventies’ California.  But rest assured, as soon as they meet with their East-Coast counterparts they’re queuing up to get that ‘clean-cut-all-American’ look instead - especially if the counterpart is a girlfriend!  I also have a contract with one of the largest studios to check out its movie actors, so they can be insured in case they get sick during the shoot.   I always perform a full medical and have them strip naked for the examination.  I’ve inspected hundreds of them - and handled their dicks and balls.  So, even if I haven’t actually cut an actor, when I check the ‘greats’ out on those net sites that list them by their ‘status’,  I know the truth.  It was one of the ‘greats’ who gave me the idea.  He wasn’t an actor though, he dressed the actors, but he was ‘into’ it for sure.  He first came to see me two years ago.

Daniel, let’s call him that.  (I’ve only changed the names to protect the guilty!)  Daniel wanted to be circumcised.  He was a flamboyant Italian queen who felt the need to fit-in with his clean-cut-American-gay friends.  He thought it was more hygienic, more socially acceptable, but I could tell, he was one of those who got his rocks off on it.   I can always tell when I examine them in my office.

A secret photograph taken by my nurse during Daniel’s circumcision showing just how low I cut him

Usually there’s an atmosphere, a nervous tension, not from fear of the physical procedure, from fear of the cutting; they’ve resigned themselves to that, even eager to get it done at last.  No, it comes from a simmering, sexual anticipation.  I discuss everything in minute detail - styles: high or low, loose or tight; methods: freehand, Mogen, Gomco (I show them the clamps and how they’re fitted and used in the operation); the sexual implications.   Then I examine them and when I order them to come around my desk and stand in front of me and drop their pants, with their crotch dead level with my face, I just know it’s going to be rock-solid hard.  Daniel’s was and stood up skywards, flat against his belly.  I always re-assure them that it’s quite normal and natural for a man to get an erection when his penis is being examined.  I say that it helps to examine them erect so I can properly judge the amount of flesh to sever, but an experienced circumciser can gauge that, even when the cock’s slam dunk flaccid. 

I stretched Daniel’s prepuce forwards till it would stretch no more and drew a thin, red circle around the shaft skin just behind the ridge.  He’d asked for a low and tight cut (so it had be a freehand circ) and low and tight he was going to get.  I was looking forward to leaving him with the barest vestige of inner mucosa, just enough for me to stitch back whatever remaining shaft skin I would allow him to keep.  I drew his attention to the fact that his entire foreskin would be amputated - plus some!  Did he really want me to do that to his penis?  

“Yeees.”  He murmured his assent through a slow sigh of satisfaction - I could tell he’d been wanting this for ages.  Then I pulled his skin back, leisurely, wrapping the fingers of my left hand around his prick, jerk-off fashion.  When I sense it’s right, I like to tease them, to play with them and Daniel responded with a discernible shudder and in-take of breath.  This guy was so excited he was juddering on the edge!  I continued pulling the skin back along the length of his shaft till it was stretched out tight and shiny and that red circle was almost dragged back to his balls.  I ran a finger right up along his cock from the red line to his glans and felt him twitch.  

“Are you really happy for me to strip that much off of you, it’ll leave you drum tight when you’re hard?  Once it’s sliced away it can’t be put back - there‘s no such thing as a foreskin transplant!”  

“Mmm.”  He nodded and licked his lips involuntarily.  This guy was ready for it.  Then I got to the critical bit and enquired about his frenum.

“Would you like me to sever you like this I asked?”   And I drew my pen across the tight frenal string like a bow across a fiddle.  “Or,”  I added,  “Shall I excise it completely?”  I demonstrated what that meant by running the point of my pen up and down along each side of his inch long frenal web.  That was it.  His prick shuddered and twitched, the knob swelled and it exploded, shooting spurts of snow-white semen through the air.  There was no need for a reply to my last question, I was left in no doubt about what he wanted me to do to his frenum and I did it, just a few minutes later!

He was embarrassed, naturally, but I lied and told him that orgasm often happens when a guy’s penis was being intimately examined and handed him some tissues to clean up.  He’d had his last uncut orgasm right there in my office!  Then he made a request that I’d never heard before.  He wanted me to give his foreskin back to him.  

Well, normally they go to dermatology centers for research, but, hell, why not, he was paying and it was his skin after all.  He explained that he had a friend in a specialist leather business who would tan it for him, because he wanted to keep it as a memento.  I said I understood, but I guessed that he really wanted it to wank over while he re-lived his circ as a jerk-off fantasy!   I told Daniel to get naked and climb onto the operating bench, while I called my nurse to come in and prep. him.  Then we circumcised him together.  First, she held the doomed skin hard-back so I could set his head free by slicing out that restricting strip of frenulum; I made sure I cut him thoroughly and left him with a deep groove to remind him of where his frenum used to be.  Then she stretched out his foreskin forward with forceps while I scissored it away around that red line.  After suturing and dressing his newly-butchered cock we sent him home, clutching some pain-killers and the small plastic phial containing his severed prepuce.  (My nurse, Jenny, is ‘into’ it too - she loves helping me circumcise guys’ cocks - and that includes some of her former boyfriends’.  She insists they get cut that way if they want her pussy, and I ‘do’ them free for the sheer hell of it!)

I could tell Jenny was ‘into it’ when I interviewed her.  “I do a lot of specialist circumcisions,”  I told her,  “You happy to assist with those?”  “Oh sure,” she replied, her eyes lighting up, “It’s a nice easy op and its so rewarding knowing that you’re helping a guy to reach a state of male perfection.”  “Guess you like that clean-cut-all-American look?”  I wanted to see if she’d reveal more of her feelings about it.  “Sure do and so do my girlfriends, we were discussing it at a bar the other evening.  We agreed it was so much more hygienic, looked sexier and, to be honest Dr Scott, it feels so much better when it’s inside.  Trisha was telling us that her boyfriend had just agreed to get cut himself and we all wondered why male circumcision wasn’t compulsory at birth.”  “Well,”  I responded, “You’d be surprised how many young mothers think it is a legal requirement for their sons.  I never disabuse them of the notion.  What’s your favorite style?”  “Difficult to say, high and tight for visual appeal, but low and tight for sex appeal - with all his sensitive inner mucosa removed a guy tends to last longer.  But definitely they should always be cut drum tight with a total frenectomy.  Once a guy’s sacrificed his prepuce, his frenum is redundant and it’s so much nicer with that smooth look to the underside.“  She was the sixth interviewee and the only one who’d spoken so freely about my favorite subject - I offered her the job then and there.  Anyway, I’m digressing, it was later that night that the idea came to me.

Daniel was ‘into’ it for certain, so I didn’t hesitate to call him the next morning.  “Was everything ok, no bad effects?”  Everything was just fine, I knew it would be.  Then I came right out with it.  What was the chance that his friend would tan some foreskins for me?  

“What will you do with them?”  It was a natural question to ask and I didn’t hesitate in answering him.  

“You’re the designer,” I replied  “You tell me.”  

“Oh my God you want to make clothes out of them!”  For a moment there was a stunned silence and I was shit-scared I’d misread the situation.  My secret would buzz around the gay crowd in minutes and that was just one phone call away from the gossip columns.  Then relief came as he squealed down the line:  “That is sooo neat, that is sooo cool, it’s my wildest fantasy come true!”  He could keep half the skins for himself, I agreed.  Naturally, the clothing items would have to be small, so it was obvious, really, that our first experiment would be with jocks.  We have one each.  All the belts and bands are tailored from the usual elastic, but the fronts are perfect, made-to-measure pouches of amputated prepuce that caress every contour of our male genitalia.  Of course, I had to confide in my nurse - how else could I explain why the flow of foreskins to the labs had dried up?  So we supplied her with a thong - she makes a point of wearing it whenever she helps me circumcise a cock.  We’ve promised to save enough skins to tailor a bra for her one day.

What I’m wearing now is a thong too, I’ve been attending one of those ‘glittering’ Hollywood garden parties where ‘image’ is everything, so my jeans had to display the latest and costliest designer label.  My host was one of the most arrogant and overpaid young movie actors on the set.    When the studio asked me to examine him, I noticed that he had a slight phimosis.   That might cause infections and lost days of shooting, so I naturally recommended he was circumcised.  The moguls agreed with me and I cut off his foreskin the following week.  He was a real pain-in-the-ass patient: throwing tantrums, canceling appointments, calling at midnight insisting on immediate visits, that sort of thing.  Well, he’s in my ass today, but not in a way he’d ever imagine.  I had his foreskin sewn into the back-string of my thong, just where it nestles in the cleft, against the pucker of my hole.  Oh, there’s another thing.  

The most beautiful and successful English actress to transfer here to Hollywood to make movies, had one of the ugliest pussies I’ve ever come across.  She asked me to clean it up for her before her wedding to… shit!  I nearly gave you the name and you’d have recognized it right away!  Anyway, I cleaned her up completely - I was really proud of my work, a major labial reduction.  But then there was the question of that clitoral hood - I’ve never seen one so obscenely long.  I took a chance and suggested that instead of simply trimming it back to a normal length, she might like me to cut it off at its root.  “I guess your boyfriend’s circumcised?”  I enquired, emphasizing that potent word.  She confirmed he was and tightly too.  

“It’s so much nicer than all those gross foreskins on the British boys I used to date.”  I knew she’d been discussing the ‘cut’ with American women, because ‘gross’ is their favorite term to condemn those elephant trunks they come across sometimes, especially here out West.  (You’d be amazed how many ‘intact’ guys get pressured into circumcision by their women, who love to come along and watch me do it to them and say how savagely they want me to cut it too!)   But back to the story.  Since he was cut for her, I suggested, she could repay the compliment with a surprise wedding gift for him.  I confirmed it wasn’t unusual among the more adventurous actresses (which it isn’t).  And she agreed.  Earlier this afternoon, her husband was standing just a few yards away from me by the pool, chatting with Daniel.  I wonder how he’d have reacted if he knew what Daniel and I know, that right then, the soft, sex flesh I scalpelled off his wife’s cunt was caressing the smooth, plump, shiny glans of my totally-circumcised prick?  

We also both use prepuce-skin wallets and card holders, but for the future?  Well, we’re amassing a collection of skins for a sunbathing brief each, it’ll give us an extra kick to show them off by the pool-side.  They’ll be a check design, black and white.  You see I’ve volunteered to donate some of my precious time to Africa, where I’ll perform medically-safe circumcisions at mass tribal initiation ceremonies.  I might even collect enough for a pair of shorts!

CUT TO FIT - in a no-holds-barred personal confession, Hollywood doctor, Jamie Scott, reveals his bizarre fetish for unusual underwear.